Invisible Cities

Scene: A Quiet Night – Jessica & Sam Discuss Invisible Cities

The ocean breeze rolled in through the open balcony doors, carrying the scent of salt and warm night air. The waves lapped against the Belizean shoreline, a soft, steady rhythm beneath the quiet hum of the city.

Jessica sat cross-legged on the couch, whiskey in hand, staring at the ceiling. She wasn’t tired. Not yet.

Sam was on the other chair, feet propped up on the table, flipping absently through a worn paperback. The title was faded, but she recognized it.

Italo Calvino. Invisible Cities.

Jessica smirked. “That’s an odd choice for you.”

Sam didn’t look up. “Why’s that?”

She sipped her whiskey. “It’s not your usual style. You like books with clean resolutions.”

Sam chuckled, turning a page. “And you like books that don’t give you any.”

Jessica tilted her head in amusement. “Fair point.”

He set the book down. “You ever read this one?”

Jessica exhaled through her nose. “Yeah. Years ago.”

Sam studied her. “Then tell me, what’s your city?”

Jessica arched a brow. “My city?”

“Yeah.” Sam leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Calvino says every city is really just a reflection of memory. Of the person telling the story. So… what’s your city?”

Jessica stared at him for a moment, then leaned back, stretching out on the couch.

She thought about all the places she’d been.

The cities she’d walked through.

The ones she’d burned.

Finally, she spoke.

“A city with too many doors.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”

Jessica swirled the whiskey in her glass. “A city where every street leads back to where you started. Where you think you’re leaving, but you keep ending up in the same place.”

Sam nodded slowly. “A city built like a spiral.”

Jessica exhaled. “Yeah.”

Sam watched her, quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “And if you could leave?”

Jessica smirked. “Who says I haven’t?”

Sam gave her a look. “Have you?”

Jessica tapped her fingers against the side of her glass. “I like to think so.”

“But?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “But sometimes I still see the doors.”

Sam didn’t press her. He just leaned back in his chair, considering that.

Then he picked up the book again.

“Maybe you should pick a new city.”

Jessica smirked. “Maybe I will.”

She finished her whiskey and set the glass down beside her. For now, she let the sound of the waves carry her somewhere else. Somewhere that wasn’t a spiral. Somewhere that wasn’t the past. Somewhere that might finally be home.